


The Days That Pass Us By

by Ashthevalkyrie



Category: Persona 5
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:40:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25626841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashthevalkyrie/pseuds/Ashthevalkyrie
Relationships: Akechi Goro & Persona 5 Protagonist, Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

He could pretend. Pretend nothing had happened, that he wasn't different. That he hadn't fought a god. That he hadn't changed hundreds, if not thousands of lives. That he hadn't known anyone in that town and it didn't hurt. That he hadn't awakened to the being he viewed as his big brother. That he hadn't heard the gunshot that ended his love.

He could pretend as long as he wanted, but his permanent red eyes would never let him forget.

Ren Amamiya pressed his fingers to the window, not looking at the passing rice fields as much as his red-stained eyes. He was used to them being red- in the Metaverse, they'd turn crimson every time he'd summoned Arsene, but in his own world, Ren half expected to see them covered in glass and dulled down to an unnassuming black. Only, the gold flecks and blood-tinted eyes were still there and no perspective would change that. He'd received some strange looks from his parents, but for the time being, no direct questions. It was Arsene's mark, he decided, and he was proud to bear it, no matter what happened. Proof that he'd never be the same.

How could he be the same when Ren had seen his love murdered? For Yaldabaoth's sake, he was a part of the reason Goro Akechi had vanished! Ren shivered in the backseat, turning away from the unnassuming fields and his own guilty eyes. No, he couldn't pretend. If he did, he would forget, and forgetting was the worst crime anyone could commit.

 _It's unhealthy to look at the past while you still have a future._ Arsene's sultry voice made him think of embers and warm covers and summer, even though the sky was dark and marbled with heavy clouds.

 _My future will be an office and and ash,_ Ren said simply. He could sense his Persona's frustration at him, but really, did it matter? With no Metaverse and an inaccessible Velvet Room, Arsene was reduced to a voice in the back of his head. A conscience of sorts, but it was Ren's fault the Persona couldn't manifest anymore. One more thing he'd destroyed. Guilt weighed down on his chest, or maybe that was just Morgana.

He felt, rather than heard, Arsene sigh. _I'd expect my master to have a bit more in the way of self-worth. The Metaverse was never supposed to exist, Ren. Treasure the time you had instead of wishing for more. You don't hear_ me _complaining._

Despite his thoughts, the edge of a smile whispered across his reflection. _Aren't you?_

His Persona laughed softly. _There's the Ren I know and love._

Ren shook his head and faced the window again to the sound of Morgana's impatient yowl. The blurry edges of a town could be seen in the distance, but everything else made it seem as if they hadn't moved an inch. How could Japan have so much farmland? They were on mountaintops, for Yaldaobaoth's sake!

"Mom, how much longer?" He unsuccessfully tried to keep the whine out of your voice.

She tilted her head to glance at the backseat, and Ren watched her in the window's reflection. They looked so similar, down the the curly hair and pale skin, but she was cold, harsh, angry. Just like Akechi.

"Didn't last year teach you any patience?"

It only taught him the realities of the world and the little ways he could fight them. The words threatened to spill out, maybe to even get a raised eyebrow and a doubtful look, but Ren bit it back. He mutely shrugged.

Her dark hair whipped back and vanished back to the front seat. "Another hour," Akira Amamiya huffed.

Ren's thoughts eventually went, as they always did, to the fate of Goro Akechi. Perhaps he was alive, he thought, more hoping than believing. Perhaps he'd managed to escape somehow. Futaba had felt both his life signal go out at the same time as his Shadow's, hadn't he? What if he'd hit the Meta-Nav and gone to Mementos? But, he reasoned, Akechi was almost as badly wounded as he'd been, plus he'd turned himself psychotic in a last-ditch effort to win. He wouldn't have thought of it.

But who was he to say he knew the mind of Goro Akechi?

The Detective Prince.

The silent schoolboy.

The charming Celebrity.

The broken Assassin.

So many faces, so many faces. Who knew if Ren had ever seen his true face, or if Goro didn't have one anymore?

For that matter, did he? 

His bloodred eyes wavered in the dim light as the first few droplets of water hit the window. A second later, the whine of the car was replaced with the dull roar of rain. Slivers ran down the glass, warping the light until the only thing he could see was his own gold-flecked-red eyes.

Ren turned around and looked through the back window, the thunderous sound of the rain bleeding into his mother's grumble and the whine of the windshield wipers. He could almost pretend that the crowded streets of Yongen-Jaya were just there, and everyone was waiting for him. That he could return just as easily as stay here.

Just as he convinced himself, the car shuddered and stopped.

"We're home," Akira said sharply, startling him into reality. The dull, grey town matched the sky and when he looked around, it was exactly how he remember. Boring. Ren wished himself home in Yongen-Jaya, and pretended Goro was next to him, his hair tied back and his dead eyes finally sparkling. He wrapped himself in that desire and took a breath, then stepped out of the car.

Welcome home, Ren, he told himself as he stared at the grey apartment and Arsene- the epitomy of excitement and hope- started cursing like a sailor. He tightened his hand around Goro's and opened the door.

Welcome home.


	2. Thief's Hatred

Arsene was disgusted. 

This dreary, cramped hovel was his master's home? He recoiled, but braced himself as Ren stepped through the grey painted doorway. For just an instant, the house- if it could be called that, he thought to himself- had been flooded with light, the unswept stone floors paling to clean tiles, and the distinct scent of coffee wafted through the structure. 

Yes, _structure_ accurately described the place, Arsene decided. 

Ren shivered as a cold, dusty draft wound around him, and he clutched his box to his chest. He looked around, giving Arsene a better view of the structure. His previous judgement of it more or less covered everything. There was the occasional splash of color- a sooty pennant above the grey stove and cabinets, ceramic shards swept into a neat pile under the dark wood table, bright curtains seperating the kitchen from what he assumed was the rest of the house- but the rest was the same, overwhelming grey.

Welcome home, Arsene thought morosely. How had Ren stood it for so long?

"Morgana," Ren said, nudging the cat, who seemed frozen in fear. His tail puffed up, and violent noises he wholy agreed with escaped him. "Go walk around, alright?"

"Are you sure?" At his silence, he coiled around his leg. "You'll be alright without me, right?"

Ren only pushed the feline out the door.

Once again the room shifted, the almost broken chairs becoming the plush, gold-tinted chairs of a cafe and the ragged curtains to rickety stairs. Arsene sensed Ren calm, but his own emotions rose with surprise. The airy design almost seemed like Leblanc, but certain details were too sharp, while others were dulled to nearly a memory. Just the way Ren remembered things.

 _You cannot create a lie to shape your life,_ he cautioned his master. It might be cruel to say after pushing his other friend out the door, but no matter how beautiful memories were, they were dangerous to linger on. Futaba Sakura's Palace was evidence they could sour and twist into something poisonous.

 _You worry too much,_ Ren replied with what he thought was forced lightness. _Besides, you're my Persona. There won't be a Palace._

He was right, but Arsene still worried as his master shivered again.

"Ren!"

He jolted to attention as a burly man with snow-like skin and nighttime eyes prowled out of the shadows. The Leblanc illusion shattered, and Arsene could almost see the pieces struggling to gather in the corner of his eyes before giving up and flitting away.

This must be his master's father, he thought. Arsene decided immediately that he respected the man, but the look in his eyes inspired outright hatred instantly. His hair stuck up like one of the wolf Personas he'd fought. What was it's name? Fenris? Fenrir? He decided it didn't matter. 

Ren watched him without blinking as the Wolf prowled towards them. "Welcome home," he eventually purred. 

"Thank you, sir," he said politely. No _Father,_ not even _Dad,_ just _sir._ For a danger such as him, Arsene thought it made sense. He made a note to tread cautiously around this human, who seemed the type to be a terror in the Metaverse even before awakening to his Persona.

Then Arsene remembered that the Metaverse had been destroyed.

"You've changed," Sir said, his midnight eyes fixated on Ren's crimson ones. 

"I have," Ren agreed. Arsene felt his master's mood spike and the coffee scent soured.

 _Ren,_ he warned. 

_I_ know, _Arsene,_ he all but snapped. An unusual reaction, even if his suggestion had been a bit on the obvious side. Humans were a difficult bunch, but when they were aggravated, they reacted to everything strangely. Perhaps that was it.

Ren broke away from Sir's unblinking stare to glance at his mother. 

"Put your things away, then do your chores," the woman said curtly. She pushed away the curtains and floated through. "Don't disturb me."

Orders, Arsene thought. His mother gave simple orders to be followed. Sir... well, he couldn't get a reading on that human, except that he made him think of an evening in Leblanc. Ren had been pushing the coiled doorstop closer and closer together, the metal coils trembling, when a second later, it bounced out and cut his hand.

That was what Sir reminded him of. A wound-up coil about to spring.

Unlike the rest of the structure, Ren's tiny room- closet, he thought, would be a better word- was a riot of color, mainly gold and red. Pennants hung from the walls, an old desk in the corner was cheaply painted eye-meltingly orange, and the paper scattered across the room were shaded brightly with hundreds of different tones. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust, as if it hadn't been cleaned since Ren was taken. From what he knew of the other two humans, it was likely that was the truth, in which case, Arsene feverently hoped that they would one day set foot in the Velvet Room so he could cut them up.

Despite how cleverly it was hidden, Arsene also noticed a small rainbow flag at the corner of his gold-brown bedposts. Of course, he'd already known Ren preferred males, but it was a surprise to find it pinned under the bed. Knowing Ren, he'd find it above his door or on his wall, so it either wasn't his decision, or he was trying to keep it a secret from the woman. It was clear the woman didn't approve, and the woman was in charge.

Arsene solidified his opinion of the place with that little detail: this town was hell incarnate.

 _I'm sorry,_ Arsene said, regretting his words a moment later. Sorry for _what?_ The pitiful house? The lack of caring his mother, at least, had? The chores he'd have to do, despite him just returning? Sorry that Ren was forced to leave his _true_ home, Yongen-Jaya?

He felt Ren shake his head, emotions rising so sharply that Arsene felt a stab of pain in his chest. The Thief knew what was coming and braced himself as quickly as he could.

"That I have to hide everything I am?" Ren's voice rose enough, he determined, so the rest of the house and _only_ the rest of the house could hear him. "That I have to pretend so I can still have a home? That, even though in a year, I'm of age, I'll never be able to leave because _someone_ keeps taking my savings for makeup and men?"

Arsene felt a cold surge of anger. She had done _what?_

"Two minutes, and you're complaining?" came the inevitable shout from where his mother had vanished. 

_Ignore her. She's a singleminded whore,_ the Persona growled. Fury rose in his chest, and he batted it out before Ren could feel it.

"Two minutes," his master mimicked the woman's harsh tones, "and you've figured her out." He smiled at a compact mirror on his desk, and Arsene smiled weakly back. 

_It wasn't difficult,_ he said. _I'm sorry you had to leave the Thieves._

He slumped down at his desk and reached for a paper and pencil. _And I'm sorry you had to come here. You're stuck now._

Was Ren still on that? _Being stuck with you,_ Arsene said honestly, _is the best fate I could've chosen. Had the Metaverse not been shut down, I still would've asked for this._

In the compact, Ren's face turned as red as his room. _You're not flirting, are you?_

 _I'm being serious,_ he said. _Do not regret a thing that's happened. We're soul-bonded, aren't we?_ Arsene wouldn't give the honor to anyone else.

Ren's lips twitched up in the mirror, and his volatile emotions slowed to tempered waves. He was better now, and Arsene's relief almost blocked out his master's next words. 

_We are._

The room shimmered and for an instant, Ren was sitting at his workbench at Leblanc. Arsene frowned, but let him have the measure of peace. He deserved it.

_What are you drawing?_

"Him," Ren said simply. He shut his eyes, cutting off Arsene's view, but the image remained branded in his mind. 

Akechi. Crow. Black Mask. Missing- _dead._

Arsene couldn't quite understand his master's fixation on the dead traitor, but wondered it it had something to do with his last moments. Goro Akechi didn't have to shut that door. As weak as the Phantom Thieves were at that moment, they might have been overpowered and killed by the amassing Shadows. His own Shadow would've let him live.

Yet he only smiled and fired, ending his life and saving the Thieves simultaneously.

It defied all his knowledge on Goro Akechi, but as Ren had said, who was he to say he knew him? A traitor's mind, Arsene knew, was often a mystery, even to the person owning said mind. Would the Wild Card have had a third Persona as well? Not one for his lies or his hate, but his peace? That is, if he had lived. 

It was useless, he reminded himself, to think on the past. He was beginning to get caught in the same trap Ren was in, and at least one of them had to keep a clear head. He couldn't dwell on Goro Akechi.

Ren picked up his sketch, taking a picture and standing in one swift movement. Footsteps sounded somewhere in the hallway, not close, but with a definite destination in mind. He hastily shoved the drawing into a box under his bed, which was filled with countless other pictures, and flopped into bed. It was far softer than Leblanc's collection of blankets, but the dust was so thick that Arsene could almost feel it coating his hat. 

"Hey. Your cat's back." Sir's low voice went right through Ren's chest, and Arsene shivered. It was a beautiful sound, he thought, swelling and humming with its razor undercurrent, belonging to a human no less dangerous than its sound. "I'll let him in."

Ren sat up and blinked. "Thank you, sir."

Perhaps the wolf was less cruel than he'd initially thought. Morgana started scratching at the door, and he padded soundlessly to the door. 

"This place is a dump," he meowed seriously, leaping onto the desk. "Did you seriously grow up here?"

He rubbed his eyes. Arsene sensed his sudden exhaustion like a Kougan attack. "Unfortunately," Ren said. "My parents like cats, so you're safe." _They like cats more than they like me,_ he added to his Persona, more a fact then a complaint. 

Morgana leaped onto his pillow. "You look tired. You should really-"

Annoyance swelled through the both of them. Indignant at being told what to do by a _cat,_ Arsene growled quietly, while Ren hissed, "If you say _sleep,_ I'll put you in the kitchen and see if Akira makes soup out of your carcass."

Akira. That was his mother's name. What a pretty name, but such a pitty it had to be wasted on a woman such as her.

Morgana slunk off his bed. "That was mean, Ren," he mumbled.

 _I disagree,_ Arsene growled.

Ren's shoulders curled in and he sat heavily on the bed with all the grace of a large bear. "Sorry. I'm just worried, that's it," he mumbles, looking at the ground rather than Morgana's brilliant eyes. What a skillful liar, Arsene proudly thought. With that broken posture, the sad, scared look and his circumstances, it was perfectly believable.

Morgana sighs, but says nothing. He curls up next to Ren's foot and promptly falls asleep.

_Didn't Akira mention chores?_

_Akira Kurusu, and Okami Amamiya._ He sounded amused. _You don't miss much._

 _Of course I don't,_ Arsene said plainly, pride swelling through him. _I am the Thief. And you dodged the question._

 _She did._ Ren groaned and dragged his hands down his face. _I'm so tired..._

Arsene hesitated. It was well after midnight, but Akira had already demanded something from him. The woman had seemed dangerous, like a fraying rope in a pulley system. One mistake could cause a cascade of events, none of them good. _What'll happen if you don't finish?_

He shrugged listlessly, getting to his feet. The beginnings of a headache pulsed through their heads, and they both winced. Sharing a body had its drawbacks, especially when Ren didn't give himself much rest. _Dance practice. And martial arts._

Arsene choked. _Dance?_ To the best of his knowlege, dancing wasn't the worst punishment. It taught balance, at the very least, and martial arts was purely beneficial.

 _A whole day, Arsene._ Ren's voice bordered on whiny as he shuffled out the door and grabbed a broom. _A whole day. No rest. Bathroom breaks are limited. Martial arts with the wolf._

He took back his previous statements. Training with Sir would be useful, but if Arsene himself were training, he would likely end up with his wings bent, which would be unacceptable. Of course, he reassured himself, Metaverse or not, Sir would find himself in a world of pain if he even _touched_ his wings. Probably.

While Ren swept, dusted, and washed the grey counters, Arsene questioned him about the area, the people, and the locations. To sum up his findings, there were several buildings in the immediate area, and the town was given the English name of Jamestown. The biggest building was the school, and the second was the office building. _The exact same work, the exact same drill for the rest of their lives,_ Ren eleborated with a shudder. Arsene hadn't pushed after that. 

As for the people, his master told him, he would have to come to his own conclusions. 

Arsene sensed Ren's attention waning. His vision blurred. _Master,_ he warned.

He shook himself out of his daze. "Understood," he mumbled, wiping the last corner clean and leaning against the wall. From the clock in the corner, which Ren had draped a red-shaded paper over, it was two in the morning. Ren leaned heavily against the counter. "Sleeping here..."

 _I expect a Phantom Thief such as yourself to not sleep on the floor,_ Arsene chuckled. Ren muttered something back in which he couldn't quite hear, but made out to be something along the lines of "shut up ,Arsene," which he usually wouldn't have tolerated. But his master was exhausted and likely wouldn't care either way, so he let it slide for the time being.

Ren shoved his door closed with his foot and collapsed into bed, not even bothering to change before he fell asleep. Arsene, yet again, smelled the strong scent of coffee flowing through the room. He sat up, stretching his velvety midnight wings, and glanced around. Leblanc. 

He was about to stand up and look around, when he heard Morgana snickering. The cat casually batted at Ren's hair and and fury tore through him, his masked eyes glowing. He snapped his clawed fingers and flicked a ball of shadowy Eiha at it. Morgana yelped and scampered out, hissing.

Perhaps he'd been to harsh.

A wave of exhaustion crashed over him, and Arsene swayed. He felt dizzy and more than a little nauseas, a purely human feeling he'd never gotten used to. The Thief stumbled over to the bed, half-blind, and fell asleep just as the coffee faded.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for choosing my book to read!


End file.
